


Less of an Image

by MythosMeta



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff, Group Bonding, dumb conversations as an excuse for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22965106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythosMeta/pseuds/MythosMeta
Summary: yall kno what it is... Luna & girl gang retinue AUworking out the details of the world state and relationships as I gohappy last day of femfeb
Relationships: Lunafreya Nox Fleuret/Aranea Highwind
Kudos: 3





	Less of an Image

“All I’m saying is,” Aranea goes on, muffled from under the unsecured tent-flaps. “We should’ve stolen an airship from the Niffs when we had the chance.” 

Cindy, on the other side of the haven, yanks her cap off her head and slaps it against her crossed legs in annoyance. “And just what in tarnation we needin’ a ship for? The Regalia is the _finest_ transportation this side of the… everywhere, I guarantee it!” 

“Cindy,” Iris chides through her giggles, waving her butcher’s knife, “you forgot where we are, didn’t you?” 

“Hardly my fault! Y’all were hoggin’ the map the whole drive.” As Aranea emerges from the mostly-fixed tent, Cindy takes the opportunity to elbow her in the exposed midriff. “Cuz some city-slicker needed a lil’ extra help, eh?”

Aranea rolls her eyes, snatching the cap off Cindy’s lap and returning it to her head, pulling it down over her face. “Whatever gets you over the constant pestering to drive her yourself, hillbilly.” 

“I’ll never give up on my sweet lady,” Cindy declares, righting her hat and making googly eyes at the fancy, if a little dusty, car in the parking space below their outcropping.

At the center of the landform, Lunafreya stands, silver shoulders of her white dress glinting in the afternoon sun. She finally unclasps her hands, finished with the protective blessing. As always, the spell leaves her drained and tired. Still, she attempts to participate in the banter.

“I do hope that is not the sound of me being replaced, Glaive Aurum.” 

Cindy bolts up straight and gives a salute. “No, ma’am! I mean— not at all, Yer Majesty. Everybody knows you’re the most important Lady around.”

Aranea snorts a laugh, slapping a clawed hand over her mouth.

Before Lunafreya can so much as sigh, Iris puts down the knife and bounds up, presenting a pot in her hands. “Lady Luna! I made stew for all of us to share. Do you like stew? I can keep chopping if you want it more soupy. Or I could—” 

“Don’t ramble,” Aranea interrupts, then jerks a thumb at the slightly lumpy tarp. “Tent’s done. Kinda.”

“Everyone, please,” Lunafreya raises a finger to her lips and the party falls quiet. She surveys her retinue’s efforts and regards them with pride. “You’ve all done so well. I am certain we will make it to Altissia unhindered, thanks to your hard work and your generous choice to accompany me. You have my deepest gratitude.” The mini-speech is punctuated with a small bow.

A moment of respectful silence passes before Aranea brazenly pats her arm, however gently. “Don’t sweat it, Princess. We’ll get you where you’re going no matter what.” She hesitates, having some kind of allergic reaction to the sincerity. “Or something.”

Lunafreya nods. “Of that, there is no doubt,” she says, covering the gauntleted hand with her bare one.

“Be careful,” Aranea mutters, trying to wriggle her hand out from under Lunafreya’s. “It’s sharp.”

“I have no worries. My brother is always doing the same with his metal arm.”

“Please. Don’t compare me to that big softie.” 

Lunafreya hums, amused. “Shall I mention this to him?”

“Go ahead. And tell him he looks like cotton candy that grew legs while you’re at it.”

Iris looks up from unpacking her Moogle-print pajamas. “Aw c’mon, I know you’re a cool, badass warrior lady, but what’s wrong with being cute?”

“Language,” Lunafreya gently corrects.

“With all due respect, Divine Oracle: you’re not my bro.” She puts her hands on her hips. “Even if you were, he can’t tell me what to do. Rebel life!” 

“Yeah, woohoo,” Aranea deadpans, sidestepping the cuteness conversation and plopping a seat outside the tent to claim first watch. “Stick it to the big brothers or whatever.”

Cindy crawls past the open flap and claims a corner. “Yep, can’t relate. Are we gonna talk about boys all night or somethin’? Sun’s headin’ south fast.”

“Ew, pass.” Aranea unlatches her lance from her back and starts on routine maintenance. “And the sun sets in the west, genius.” 

“I _am_ a genius, thank you very much, and I meant the sun is goin’ down. In the sky. Down is south.” 

She halts her cleaning. “You’re joking, right? Down? The sky isn’t a graph.” 

“If the sky were a graph,” Iris chimes in, “that would be the y-axis.” 

Aranea eyes her companions in disbelief. “There’s no axis! Don’t apply positive _and_ negative numbers to the atmosphere.” 

Cindy waves Iris into the tent, apparently taking sides. “Why not? Maybe if we put it in the middle of the sky… “

“I’m crying,” Aranea says, clearly not crying. “How many of us went to school? I’m serious. This is a serious question.”

“Oh, let them have their fun.” Lunafreya sits on her own legs, untying her hair. “Each of us received adequate education, by the way.”

Aranea squints at her. “Uh-huh. How do you know that?”

“Files,” she replies, cryptic.

She squints harder.

“I _am_ the Oracle, am I not? Surely you anticipated a background check. Only customary, of course.” Lunafreya offers her an open smile. Not that it really needs to be described. All of her smiles are like that, disarmingly honest. “I trust each one of you with my life.”

“I know.” Aranea tells herself to suck it up for once. “Thank you, Your Majesty. We won’t let you down.” 

“So you’ve promised.” She drops her arms and her kind look intensifies. The breeze is her tailwind, pushing her hair over her shoulders to frame her face in a warm glow. She is worn and sleepy and every inch the leader, the healer, the bridge to the divine her people cast her to be. “I believe you.” 

Something in Aranea’s chest lurches with devotion. Lunafreya cups her cheek with one hand, just for a second, but it’s the slowest second Aranea has felt in a long time, and it’s over much too soon. She brushes past into the tent, leaving only a light floral scent in her wake.

Aranea takes a shuddering breath, and returns to her watch and maintenance. If her movements are more mechanical and distracted than usual, there is no one but the scavenger birds to witness it.

Suddenly, she thinks it’s going to be a long night.


End file.
